


The Carriage Ride

by icewine



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Compliant, Conversations, Gen, M/M, Poor Sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewine/pseuds/icewine
Summary: Sebastian gets fed up with doing all the heavy lifting, while Ciel sits on his ass and finger-tents like he’s Montgomery Burns. This is the conversation that ensues. No weird stuff. No carriage sex. Just being Britishly bitchy to each other while admitting to all the weird little contrivances on this weird little show.





	The Carriage Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Ciel and Sebastian are riding inside of the carriage and discussing their next mission for the Queen.

“Sebastian, the Queen has just notified me that there is a shipment of opium arriving in East London later this afternoon. Apparently, there is a new criminal gang that is trying to infiltrate the opium market in England. I will need you to investigate this and put a stop to it immediately.”

 

“Yes, young master. And how would you like me to proceed?”

 

“Well… you need to put a stop to it. So… figure it out.”

 

“ ‘Figure it out’, sir?”

 

“Yes. Figure it out.”

 

“Any explicit instructions? Any specific strategies you would like me to employ?”

 

“Well, no. That will be your job to figure it out.”

 

“Mmm hmm”

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

“What are you staring at, demon?”

 

“Nothing. I’m just quietly marveling at your exceptional strategic acumen. Your tactical brilliance. Your masterful gamesmanship.”

 

“Sebastian…”

 

“…Certainly rivaling the cunning political guile of Machiavelli, the tactical wizardry of Alexander the Great. I think it’s your concerted engagement with the intricate mechanics of these things that gives you that certain unbeatable edge.”

 

“Sebastian…”

 

“Yes, ‘Figure it out’. I believe that is what Napoleon told his troops right before the Battle of Austerlitz...”

 

“Se _bas_ tian! Enough!”

 

“My apologies, young master. I did not mean any offense.”

 

“Not that I need to respond to your thinly-veiled insults, but it is not really my place to concern myself with such trifling details. I need to keep my focus on the bigger picture, scrutinize _all_ moves by the pieces on the chess board. I need to be ready, vigilant, always maintain alertness for the day when my enemies – the enemies of my family  - come back to finish what they started.”

 

“Yes, about that…”

 

“What?”

 

“Sir, have you ever considered going after _them_?”

 

“No. Of course not, why should I. They will surely come for me, in their futile efforts to bring down the House of Phantomhive.”

 

“Well…”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, it’s been three years, my lord…”

 

“So?”

 

“Do you think perhaps they lost your address?”

 

“Sebastian, do stop being tiresome.”

 

“I mean, how long do you intend to wait? Perhaps you could use the near-limitless resources at your disposal as the Queen’s Guard Dog, aided by an all-powerful demon from Hell to, you know, make the first move? Mount an offensive? Use the element of surprise? It explains it all in the _Art of War_ …Shall I get you a copy?”

 

“Sebastian, please. I am a Preternaturally Shrewd and Cunning Child Genius Archetype. I already _have_ a copy of the _Art of War_. We all do; me, Light Yagami, Artemis Fowl, that bloke from Game of Thrones. They hand it out at orientation at the Preternaturally Shrewd and Cunning Child Genius Archetype academy. Though, in all honesty, we do mostly just use it to speechify during moments of high drama.”

 

“Yes, of course. My apologies. So, do you perhaps want to make use of that calculating intellect, your gift for stratagem, to go after your enemies?”

 

“Sebastian, what exactly are you driving at?”

 

“Young master, please don’t misunderstand me. It’s not that I don’t _love_ doing laundry, and cooking meals, and teaching the violin to a talent-free brat, and trying to keep three imbeciles from burning us all to cinders…”

 

“[sigh]”

 

“…No, those tasks are not beneath me _at all_ …”

 

“Sebastian, your point?”

 

“My _point_ , young master, is that I would like to _eat_ at some point in the not-too-distant future. So could we please hurry your little revenge scenario along?”

 

“Oh, come now, Sebastian. I’m _so sorry_ to keep dinner waiting, but really, what is the rush? I would hate to be the one to ruin your willowy figure. Think of the countless hours of Pilates that will be required for you to regain that flat stomach of yours.”

 

“…”

 

“What now?”

 

“My lord, I am terribly flattered that you have taken notice of the litheness of my figure.”

 

“Ugh…”

 

“I did take on this physical form specifically to please you…”

 

“What exactly are you implying?”

 

“Oh nothing…Just that your tastes seem to gravitate towards the talk, dark and handsome. The Midford girl would surely be heartbroken if she knew...”

 

“You simply _cannot_ be implying what I think you’re implying!”

 

“No, not at all. I simply find it curious that you still require me to bathe you and dress you, despite the fact that you are _thirteen_ years old, and not, as far as I can tell, an invalid.”

 

“You are a _butler_. That is your _job_!”

 

“Mmmm is it, though? Is it, really? I mean, I just think it curious that a figure of towering intellect such as yourself can’t work out the mechanism of a _button_ on a _nightshirt_. Or grasp the basic concepts around using soap and water.”

 

“I will not tolerate your insolence!”

 

“Are you perhaps afflicted with some sort of fine motor dysmetria that I am not aware of?”

 

“Shut _up_ , Sebastian!”

 

“Though, I suppose if we stopped doing all that, this show would lose its current vice-grip hold on its rabid female fan base…”

 

“What the devil are you mumbling about?”

 

“Nothing. Nothing of import, my lord. Just thinking out loud.”

 

“Oh, do put a cork in it, Sebastian. As if you don’t take some sick, perverted pleasure out of doing all those things. You think I’m not aware of the _filthy_ little looks you throw my way? The _filthy_ little thoughts going through your _filthy_ little mind about your _thirteen-year-old_ master? You know, in the human world, they would put you in jail for that type of behaviour.”

 

“Oh, really? What type of behaviour is that?”

 

“Well, for one, it’s called ‘personal space’, Sebastian. You don’t need to lean in so close when you speak to me. My eyesight may be marred, but my hearing is just fine!”

 

“As you wish, young master.”

 

“And you can save those smoldering looks of yours for when you need to use your _skills_ to drill information out of some East London hussy. Honestly, it’s unseemly.”

 

“Yes, my lord.”

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

“What. Is. It. _Now_. Sebastian?”

 

“Wanna make out?”

 

“Ugh. For the thousandth time, NO!”

 

“Alright, suit yourself.”

 

And they continue the rest of the ride in silence.

 


End file.
